Sweet Poison
by DaysEye123
Summary: A short monologue from Juliet's pov as she contemplates the poison that will make her appear dead, her feelings for Romeo, Paris and her parents. Please review - it'd be very much appreciated! Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the play or characters.


**(A/N) This is my first fanfic, and I'm not sure how good it is. It's basically an insight into Juliet Capulet's emotions and relationships, told from her point of view. It started because I had to write a monologue for my English assessment, and I was quite pleased with the result, but I know it's not brilliant, so please please please do press that little 'review' button and give me your honest opinion! **

How could something so small lead to something so huge?

It's terrifying.

This bottle could either be my salvation or demise. I know the Friar said it was safe – he assured me – but… what if it were to go wrong? For something so strong, it's deceptively beautiful.

Huh.

It's the exact colour of his eyes.

Oh God, those eyes! I could drown in those eyes; stare into them all my life… what if it were to go wrong? What if I were to lose those enchanting eyes forever?

That's what I noticed first, his eyes. At the party, I felt a gaze brush the back of my neck – how could I ignore such an intense look? And then, I saw the shine in his expression, and it was as if he and I were the only things in existence. When he smiled for me, oh that _smile_, when he smiled for me, everything else just… evaporated. The music, the candles, the hand of Paris on the small of my back.

Paris.

Now _there's _a man who will mourn his loss if I were to die at my own, rash hand. Would he miss me? Hah! Of course he wouldn't; he's in this for the money, for the convenience of it all.

Not like sweet Romeo.

_My _Romeo.

My… husband.

Oh, that words still sounds so strange on my lips! Will I have the time to become accustomed to it? Husband. Husband, husband, husband. Such a powerful word, and yet still only a name, still just a title, like Montague or Capulet. I may be wife, and he may be husband, but we are still Romeo and Juliet, are we not? Only he could take that title for me, no matter how foreign it feels to voice it.

Never Paris.

Who, I suppose… is still my fiancé.

How did I get into this godforsaken mess? My only way out seems to be this small bottle, this sweet poison in my hand. To be free! To be free from rules, free to love my Romeo, free from this house and free from the chains of Montague and Capulet!

Will they miss me? My father, my mother… aye, they will miss me, but as the sky misses the stars. She is duty-bound to bear them, but by sunrise they have left her, and she barely notices; she has a new star now, a sun to indulge her.

Perhaps, when Romeo and I are safely away, I will write and tell of our actions. Perhaps, there will be a time in the future when I can explain my 'death'. Assuming that this goes to plan, of course. What if it doesn't work? What if it works too well? Oh Romeo, if only you were here; you could comfort me more than the Friar (despite his wisdom) ever could. Your warm body next to mine, your strong arm across my shoulders, your beautiful voice soothing the mosquitoes buzzing around in my head…

I'll never see this place again. This huge, draughty old house will no longer be my home; I shall die and escape with you, my fugitive. It seems so strange, this thought of drinking this toxic cocktail and stealing away in the night with the love of my life – how romantic it is, how… bold. All I've ever known is duty, and how to behave.

'Juliet! You are a Capulet. You must serve and honour that name as you do your God!'

I've only ever known rules and regulations, behaviour and decorum. Then I met you, and I felt something. The way you looked at me as though I were something special, the way your hands cupped mine, the way you say my name, the way your eyes shine…

That's it. I'll do it – I'll forget my worries, forgo the fretting and take it. How could I ever have thought of this liquid to be anything other than the richest wine; for what could be more wonderful than to spend the rest of my days with my love? I can escape – I can. All I have to do is drink it...


End file.
